


The Lioness Door

by nerdurmas



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, M/M, Slavery, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-28
Updated: 2017-11-28
Packaged: 2019-02-07 22:35:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12850944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdurmas/pseuds/nerdurmas
Summary: Down a grungy alleyway, in the city of Saint Belle, there is a magical door with a copper lioness knocker.





	The Lioness Door

**Author's Note:**

> Hunk and Lance have been aged up(18+).  
> Violence will occur in later chapters.

From the Northern Woods, a cloaked young man traveled the cobbled path towards the City of Saint Belle. Saint Belle, was well-known for its thick iron walls that protected its residents from the lurking dangers of the surrounding woodlands. At the massive gate entrance stood two burly guards. Both equipped with large spiked helmets and spears.

The cloaked man tugged at his cobalt hood and passed through. His gaze cast down to the ground as he entered with haste. Once inside, he melted into the bustling crowd of the packed city streets. Peddlers yelled out their wares over the mass of people. Slipping through the mob, the lanky youth made his way down an empty alleyway off the central path.

He walked up to a wooden door. The door had a large copper knocker. It was tarnished green and in the shape of a lioness’ head. A heavy ring was held firm in its mighty jaws. The man took hold and knocked three times. Upon the third knock, the door slowly opened and he walked into the darkness. The door slammed shut behind him and the room spontaneously became illuminated by flickering torches.

The space was filled with rows of shelves that were stocked with various items and books. At the far end was an enormous mahogany desk and behind it sat a luxurious, velvet armchair. The man removed his hood. He had a long, narrow face with an upturned nose. His fringe was cut short, sideburns framing expressive blue eyes. Two black horns stuck out from his temples. They had been shaved down, to be easier to conceal. Betwixt the growths was a leviathan cross etched into his forehead.

An older gentleman with ginger hair and a prominent mustache poked his head out from behind one of the shelves.

“Hello there,” he greeted. “Not often I get customers. How can I assist you?”

 “You are Coran?” the horned man asked, taking a step towards him.

“I am,” the gentleman said, carrying a pile of books towards the desk. “Coran Hieronymus Wimbleton Smythe; friend of beast, creature and wielder of magic, at your service.”

“I have no name”-he took a small coin purse from his tattered trousers, hooved feet peeking out from under his cloak-“but, I was told you could help me. Do you know- what I am? I know that must sound weird-”

Coran placed the pile onto the desk and took a seat in the armchair, “my boy, I have encountered far weirder things. Now, let me take a look.”

He twirled his mustache, staring into his visitor’s eyes. They shone back at him, like sapphires. From a drawer he pulled out a book and flipped through the pages, glancing up every few turns.

“Ah, here,” said Coran, placing down the book and spinning it around for the boy to see.

The hooved footed man approached slowly. A menacing looking creature glared off the page up at him, snarling. It was covered in thick fur and had massive horns that pointed upwards. Below the illustration, “Minotaur” was written.

“This is what I am? What is it-exactly. . .” he said with an embarrassed expression, “I can’t read.”

“Yes, well, I believe you to be a Minotaur. Though, this illustration is heavily exaggerated. Human folk tend to do that,” he spoke quickly, “you are a rare sight. Especially, for this city. Residents here are not the most accepting lot, best be careful.”

“Yeah, I heard.”

“You say, you have no name,” Coran laced his fingers, “where did you come from?”

“I,” the boy hesitated and his eyes darted to the floor, “was an entertainer. I have a stage name, but it isn’t a real name.”

“I see,” the ginger bent down retrieving a massive red bound book. It hit the desk top with a loud thud, “well then, I think you should choose a name.”

“I wouldn’t know what to choose. I can’t read or write, so how can I pi-“

“Nonsense!” Exclaimed Coran standing and gesturing for the boy to sit in the chair, “take a seat and have a look through this book. It is filled with names, just pick one you like the look of.”

He sat and slowly began to thumb through the book. Coran stood with hands behind his back, peering over his guest’s shoulder. This caused the young Minotaur to become nervous. All the names looked the same to him. The pressure increasing, he pointed at random.

“This one.”

“Aah, Lance,” said Coran with cheer, “a fine name, indeed!”


End file.
